


Knocking On Hel's Door

by GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins



Category: Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Insomnia is a complete bitch, Screwing with Marvel canon using Norse mythology, Shameless stealing of Ancient Greek myths and concepts, Warped Humour, Where do I get these ideas?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins/pseuds/GuiltyPleasuresAndDeadlySins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You come in search of something lost,” the figured stated, not turning.</p>
<p>“Yes…” Steve started, but laughter cut him off.</p>
<p>“Not you Captain Rogers, you come out of guilt, Agent Romanov…Agent Barton, you I will speak with.  Your loss, is that most keen.  Come, sit.”</p>
<p>(Otherwise known as: how the Avengers walked into Helheim and came back out with Phil Coulson.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Clint and Natasha Hatch a Cunning Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Uh...I apologize for this in advanced. It seemed like a good idea at the time...
> 
> I own nothing of course.

When Clint first hears that Phil Coulson is dead, his first response is ‘No’. Because Phil can’t be dead, because Phil is invincible. But Natasha’s eyes are filled with tears that she’s refusing to shed, and Stark and Captain Rogers’ aren’t looking at Clint when she tells him. Thor is silent, guilt seeping out of his very being, and Doctor Banner is still looking peeky from his earlier transformation, and even the shawarma hadn’t given him all the energy he needed back. Clint is proud to say that he does _not_ crumble into a complete mess for the rest of the flight back, nor the ensuing medical check-ups and psych evals until they were certain that Clint was not under anybody’s control but his own, and that the only issue was that he’d landed on his quiver and bruised the hell out of his back.

He met up with ‘Tasha the minute he was released from SHIELD custody and the two of them headed to the first dive bar that came to mind, not caring if they ended up in a fight – they could take care of themselves, even falling down drunk (one of the prerequisites for their ability to function in amongst crime families was the ability to hold their drink in a way that meant they could still win a fight). So, a dive bar where there were thugs who were likely spoiling for either a fight, or a fuck, and they wouldn’t like being told no, two glasses and a bottle of overpriced vodka (price versus strength was not really worth it), and a bowl of off the bar peanuts (that neither of them really liked, but hey, the only thing Clint had had to eat since the nightmare started was the shawarma, and ‘Tasha hadn’t exactly been stopping for full meals either).

“He’s really gone?” Clint asked eventually, his voice breaking, and he cursed himself for it. (But this was _Phil_ and Clint was responsible, one way or another, because ‘following orders’ wasn’t a good excuse, and Phil was dead because Loki escaped, and he was the first handler who’d seen Clint as more than just an asset).

‘Tasha nodded, downing her glass of vodka, “Yes. I spoke to Fury, he swore on his eye that Phil was gone.” (And Fury is a lot of things, and maybe a liar is one of them, but when it comes to his eye, he’s deadly serious). “ _I make better vodka than this_.” The last was drawled in Russian as she poured herself a new glass, her eyes glistening (because Phil had been the reason ‘Tasha wasn’t dead now, who’d vouched for Clint’s vouching for her with Fury, and now she was SHIELD, and she owed them both, but one debt could be paid, the other couldn’t).

“Ain’t that the truth,” Clint toasted her, knocking back his own glass and holding it out to ‘Tasha and the bottle, clinking their glasses together once they’re both full again. “So what do we do?”

“What can we do? Our handler…our _friend_ is dead.”

“There’s got to be _something_. Make a deal with the devil?”

“We’ve already done that once, Clint, and it nearly got us killed, I have no intention of doing it again.”

“Probably wouldn’t be wise I suppose…you can only sell your soul once…”

After the giggling fit that followed that sentence, because neither of them was entirely convinced they _had_ souls, they drank in an almost morose silence, working steadily on getting drunk, and flirting with the idea of luring the thugs who were eyeing up ‘Tasha into what would be a completely unfair fight. Eventually, they left, noting that the thugs were following them and sharing wicked little grins as they stumbled into an alley, ready for a good old-fashioned punch-up.

The thugs were little more than that, and the fight wasn’t exactly satisfying, but it was a start on relieving the tension that had been building since they saved Manhattan. 

With their innate telepathy, born of years working together, they didn’t even need to talk. They knew exactly what they were going to do. They were going hunting.

The cool air was rapidly sobering them up, and they disliked that, so a quick visit to one of their safe houses for some of ‘Tasha’s homebrewed vodka (which was indeed far better and stronger than anything they could buy), and started roaming the streets for a fight, water bottles of vodka in their hands as they wound through the neighbourhoods that promised violence.

By the end of the night, they were both sporting new bruises, and grinning exultantly. They ended up back at Clint’s ‘place’ (a SHIELD sanctioned safe-house he’d been using), the research he’d done into Norse mythology still spread out on his ‘coffee table’ (a weapon’s trunk that happened to be in front of the couch) from before he was assigned to watch Selvig, from after the New Mexico Incident. They slumped down onto the couch of the tiny apartment and Clint brushed his research together so they could put their feet up, and his eyes caught on one page in particular.

And perhaps it was the alcohol, but the idea that sprang into his head, seemed like a good one.

“The Seidhr!” he exclaimed, pronunciation perfect (you didn’t run ops in Russia, as a Russian, without learning to keep the language and accent after imbibing stupid quantities of alcohol, and that was a transferable skill).

“ _The who_?” ‘Tasha blinked, and Clint hadn’t bothered telling her she’d been speaking Russian for the past three hours, she probably already knew.

“Seidhr! Nordic shamans, they…they used masks to pass over the veil between realms into Hel’s kingdom. We could…we could…” And here he struggled to figure out the word he wanted, because he wasn’t entirely sure what it was they could do.

‘Tasha’s eyes had lit up. “ _We could go and bring Phil back_!”

God bless ‘Tasha for knowing exactly what he wanted to say before he even said it.

(They would later question how they came to this conclusion, and furthermore why asking JARVIS for help was a good idea, because three days after Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard, they decided to break into Stark tower and do just that).

(They would not, however, question it when the rest of the Avengers decided that they were coming with them).

\------------------------------------------------

She watched silently, her eyes seeing her realm, and Midgard at the same time, watching death, and waiting for her moment to judge. She knew what was going to happen, and she was already making preparations.

A soul that should not be here was, the Fates themselves had told her of a life cut short too soon, and there would be those who would help her restore order.

She was a judge, a protector, and a guide. She had a duty to those who died. She looked down to the child in her arms and pressed a kiss to his head.

“Another taken too soon,” she whispered, “but unlike you child, I can give him back.”


	2. In Which The Avengers Get Involved

In the end, after the team decides to go and get Phil back, they’re delayed – firstly by a new (complete idiot) of a handler being assigned, then by a couple of villains who decided to try and challenge them, and finally by not actually being entirely sure of the rituals that would get them to Hel’s realm. (Despite the fact that before Clint and ‘Tasha presented the full plan to the Avengers, not just the idea that JARVIS told Tony, they spent a productive evening with yet another bottle of ‘Tasha’s homebrew, Clint’s laptop and sketchbooks and drew up a plan of attack that made would make the Nelson’s battle plans look like children’s doodlings).

Their presentation involved a slide-show, and more effects than either would have put in sober (‘Tasha’s blaming Clint, but Clint claims he wasn’t typing, Steve declares them both at fault for doing it drunk, but applauds their ability to plan with a blood alcohol that should’ve destroyed both their livers, Bruce is curious as to whether either of them _have_ a liver, and Tony wants to know how the hell they’re not hungover).

Thor’s return is their first piece of good news, and it’s heralded by Clint landing on the demi-god’s shoulders and ‘Tasha getting as close to a grin as she ever gets. (Clint predictably ends up getting thrown into a wall, but he’s grinning when he bounds to his feet, so everything’s fine).

It’s actually Tony who asks: “How do we get to Helheim?”, after all the greetings and getting Thor a large mug of coffee and a box of pop-tarts.

Thor blinks for a moment, before answering. “Why do you wish to enter my niece’s realm?!” he booms eventually.

“To get Coulson back of course,” Tony’s using his ‘this is obvious to anyone, why do you not realize this’ voice, and Clint’s trying not to snigger behind his hand (because he really doesn’t want to offend the one person who has a real chance of helping them).

“Would not our shield-brother be more likely in Valhalla?”

Clint and ‘Tasha share a look because they’ve actually considered that one. (Along with the possibility that they were taking the briefing notes they’d been given when Selvig was handed the Tesseract and Clint was given guard duty, a bit too seriously).

“He would not have gone,” ‘Tasha states in a carefully measured tone. “If he was offered a place, he would not have taken it.”

“You are sure?”

“Phil was a warrior,” Clint states, “no question there, but he never asked for recognition. Also, endless feasting, drinking and fighting wouldn’t appeal to him.”

Thor thankfully conceded to their superior knowledge of one Phil Coulson and instead adopted a thoughtful look. “Hel has long since sealed her realm off from the Bifrost, Heimdall was always fond of her, and my Father was grateful for her gifts to him and enforced the ban on entering her realm uninvited.”

“So how do we get invited?” Tony asked, sipping on a glass of scotch.

“We could kill you,” ‘Tasha offered genially, with a completely straight face.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Steve shot her a reproving look and ‘Tasha shrugged slightly.

“It would be possible to petition her,” Thor stated, “If you have a suitable creature to sacrifice.”

“Hate to break it to you big guy,” Clint sounded morose now, “But we don’t have half-”

(“Or possibly any,” Tony murmured to Bruce.)

“-Of the creatures you have.”

“You do not have ravens?” Thor seemed almost startled by that.

“Those we do have,” Bruce noted clinically.

“They are the messengers of Lady Hel. If we sacrifice one while stating our petition it will carry the message to her.”

From there, the next, most logical question, was how did they get their hands on a raven.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clint had to admit that seeing Tony Stark attempting to capture a raven was a rather hilarious thing. He was sat with ‘Tasha on the roof of one of the buildings they’d seen ravens on, laughing as the others all tried to capture ravens, wondering when they’d realize that ‘Tasha had caught one half an hour ago and it was sat placidly in the cage at her feet. (Bruce had been excused from this particular team-bonding excursion for obvious reasons – no-one wanted to explain to Fury why the Hulk was unleashed over birds).

Still, it was starting to get a bit chill, and really, they needed to get on with petitioning Hel for entry to her realm and then figure out how in hell’s name to get Phil back in the land of the living.

“Guys?” Clint hit his earpiece. “We got one. Shall we get back to the Tower?”

Tony, predictably, spent the journey back to the Tower cursing them out – which would have been more impressive if he’d been able to do it in more than one language.

The next problem they encountered was how to actually sacrifice the raven, and that was how they ended up sat around one of the main living areas of Stark Tower, staring at a raven who was staring right back at them curiously.

“So…” Bruce stated quietly.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed.

“Thor?” ‘Tasha inquired.

“We must sacrifice the noble bird and dispatch it to Lady Hel with our message,” Thor boomed with an easy-going grin. “A simple enough task.”

“Just don’t do it on the table!” Tony exclaimed. “Pepper would kill us!”

(No-one questioned how Pepper would manage to kill the original super-soldier, Hulk, a demi-god and two master assassins, but no-one doubted she’d manage it either).

“So where _can_ we do it?” Clint asked, bouncing slightly.

Of course, that was the point at which Pepper had walked in, she looked them all over, blinked at the raven and shook her head, holding up a hand against the clamours. “I do not want to know. Tony, you have a meeting with the board at nine tomorrow, don’t be late.” With that, she left again.

“Might I suggest that you use one of the laboratories?” JARVIS asked.

“JARVIS,” Tony exclaimed. “I am a genius.”

“Actually,” Steve was frowning as they headed towards the labs. “I’m fairly certain that JARVIS is the genius…”

“But I created JARVIS, ergo, _I_ am the genius.”

“Did you just say ‘ergo’?” Clint asked, “Seriously, who says ‘ergo’ anymore?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sacrificing a raven was no-where near as cool, or as neat as it actually sounded. It was in fact very messy, and there was no-way to do it elegantly. Blood (not all of it the raven’s) and feathers (all of them the raven’s, no matter what Tony later said about Clint molting), spread around the lab, (and they weren’t entirely sure how they managed to get blood and feathers on the other side of the lab, but they did). Still, after a fun-filled ten minutes of sacrificing a raven while Thor recited a very formal speech that was clearly a petition for an audience with Hel.

(“Shakespeare in the Lab!” Tony exclaimed, and ‘Tasha asked how much he’d had to drink).

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hel turned as she heard wings coming towards her, and holding out her hand for the raven to land on.

“Speak my friend,” she whispered.

“The Lord Thor and friends humbly request that you grant them an audience regarding a soul in your care, one Philip Coulson.”

“I will grant them it. Rest easy my friend, you have done well.”

The raven seemed to relax on her hand, and she reached out and stroked its feather’s as she headed back towards her throne.

“I will hear them. Let’s hope they are more eloquent than Lord Thor was the last time I spoke with him.”


	3. In Which the Avengers Enter Helheim

The next thing they needed to do, apparently, was make masks. Because they required mask to cross of the ‘shroud that divides the realm of Helheim’ (Thor’s words, not theirs). Tony wasn’t entirely sure what to think about the fact that his living room was being used as a workshop for precisely this end. It turned out that Clint was a dab hand with whittling, and Steve was also fairly adept at it, so the two of them were busy doing exactly that, while the others figured out exactly what the masks had to look like. (Once again, Thor’s presence was more than helpful as he drew on his own memory to provide them with basic plans).

Tony made it to his nine meeting, mostly because ‘Tasha dragged him, although neither of them had actually slept, and it was showing (at least on Tony, ‘Tasha had managed to steal five minutes to do her make-up and looked as perfect as ever). Pepper rolled her eyes at them, and spirited ‘Tasha off to do something or other down in Legal. Tony did his best to stay awake during the meeting, and ended up trying to plan a speech that would get Hel to give them Coulson back. (He was so glad he could look like he was making notes when he did it, because he had one of his tablet’s in front of him).

Returning to the tower, they found six masks perched on the table, with the rest of the Avengers asleep around the lounge. Clint was asleep on the mantelpiece of all places (and Tony was trying to figure out how the archer had succeeded in perching himself there), Thor was stretched out on one couch, Steve on the other, and Bruce was curled up in an armchair.

Clint was the first to wake up, rolling off the mantelpiece and producing a bow from _somewhere_ and aiming it at them within moments of them walking into the lounge.

“Good afternoon,” ‘Tasha greeted him evenly, the hint of a smirk around her eyes and lips.

“Hey ‘Tash,” Clint grinned, unapologetic as he relaxed the tension in the bow string and leaning over to return it to under the mantelpiece.

“How have you got weapons here already?!” Tony demanded.

Clint looked at him as though he was missing an important fact, but Tony couldn’t quite figure out what it was as the two assassins started waking up the others.

“Are we doing this then?” Clint asked, already lifting his own mask.

“Yes,” ‘Tasha stated, settling down next to him and grabbing her own.

There’s a moment where they’re all sat their, masks in their hands, looking at each other, not really able to believe they’re actually doing this. Thor’s the first one to put his mask on, because he’s apparently well acquainted with the ritual, and ‘Tasha’s the first one to follow suite – of course she is, she doesn’t fear, well known fact. Clint and Steve follow fairly quickly because Clint trusts ‘Tasha (and his recon), and Steve believes in leading by example. Tony and Bruce share a look that clearly states ‘We believe in science, why are we doing something that’s clearly not scientific?’ (and Clint wonders when they picked up his and ‘Tasha’s silent communication skills), before sliding their own masks into place.

Nerves had no place in pagan rituals to contact hell-goddesses who may or may not actually grant them the audience, and may or may not be able to help them out.

(Of course, Tony managed five minutes to coach Steve in precisely what he should say to Hel to get Coulson back, because of course it was going to be Cap who stated their request, he was their leader after all).

(‘Tasha and Clint hadn’t noticed that, the two of them too busy talking quietly with one another on the other sofa).

\-------------------------------------

The ritual wasn’t really all that complicated, and the masks seemed to almost disappear from their faces, the weight certainly gone, and nothing obscuring their features. The odd thing was stepping through the veil itself. It was bisecting the living room, leaving one side a stone hall. Clint stepped forward and reached out to touch the veil, shivering as his hand slid through it into chill air.

“S’cold,” he stated, a shiver running through him at the imagined chill to his arms and shoulders.

“You going to be wishing you were wearing a shirt with sleeves?” Tony snarked at him.

“Nope. Just need to get used to it. ‘Tasha?”

“Right beside you,” ‘Tasha stepped up next to him, producing two guns and handing one to Clint – he may prefer his bow, but he was perfectly capable with a gun, and it was easier to conceal than his bow, and they did _not_ want to be obviously armed.

“Surely you are not expecting trouble?” Thor looked almost offended. “The Lady Hel will not cause you harm.”

“Expect the unexpected,” Clint quoted at him as they lifted their guns and slowly stepped forward into the veil.

The cold hit them, and even as their bodies were adjusting, they cleared the immediate area. They relaxed slightly, lowering the guns slightly as they called ‘clear’. Apparently the rest of the team thought they were being over-cautious as they stepped through, and Tony and Bruce gave them perturbed looks while Steve shook his head.

“Because guns will help you here,” Tony remarked to Bruce.

“Might slow the zombies down,” Clint shot back.

“There are no zombies in my Lady’s realm,” a voice behind them made them spin. The veil was gone and a slim man was stood with his hands tucked behind his back. “Only the dead.”

“Then what are you?” Tony demanded.

“Dead,” the man responded sharply. “Follow me please.”

\-------------------------------------

The walk to what was clearly the main hall was not very long, but it was chill. The hall was carved out of the stone, high and vaulted, ice clinging to the fluted columns and ceiling. The walls were covered with carvings and tapestries. Thor pointed out several, commenting on what they depicted. (Battles where there had been defection and betrayal, ‘sinners’ being judged unworthy and thrown into the coldest cells of Helheim, righteous being judged worthy and guided to their next life, a figure who Thor assured them was Lady Hel protecting women in childbirth, and children – Clint frowned at the last one).

At the end of the hall, instead of a door (which, Tony commented to Bruce, would have been awesome, because Steve could’ve imitated Aragorn in The Two Towers (film, not book), Tony then became confused when Bruce looked at him and asked ‘What film?’) The hall itself, would not have looked out of place in the Lord of the Rings films, the ceiling even higher, columns leading up on either side of an aisle to an empty throne. Running up either side of the hall were large, arched windows, and at one at the same level as the throne, one hand resting on the back of an ornate wooden chair at the head of a table. Lounged around the hall, tongues lolling out and eyes tracking the Avengers hungrily, were a dozen or so large hounds - more like wolves if they were being completely honest.

“The Avengers milady,” the man leading them stated, before leaving without waiting for a verbal acknowledgement.

In the silence, the Avengers all shared a look, wondering which of them should break the silence, even _Tony_ didn’t want to break the eerie, echoing quiet. In the end, the decision was taken out of their hands.

“You come in search of something lost,” the figured stated, not turning from their - _her_ \- attention from whatever she was staring at.

“Yes…” Steve started, but laughter cut him off.

“Not you Captain Rogers, you come out of guilt, Agent Romanov…Agent Barton, you I will speak with. Your loss, is that most keen. Come, sit.”


	4. In Which Hel Serves Afternoon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter. Or the characterization. I am happy with how Hel's turned out...

It turned out that Hel, when giving audience, served afternoon tea. As in proper, English, afternoon tea, with cream cakes, sandwiches with the crusts cut off (cucumber, salmon), and proper English tea. Clint and ‘Tasha inhaled the scent of the tea and shared smiles – because this was something from Budapest that they didn’t remember differently, sat drinking proper tea that ‘Tasha had brewed in their crappy little safe-house. It was served by unseen hands as Hel (or they assumed it was Hel) continued to stand at the window, staring out over her realm, now cradling a steaming mug in one of her hands, the other resting on the head of one of the hounds that had moved to sit at her side. While Clint and ‘Tasha are willing to wait for Hel to begin, Bruce is practising meditation technique (and enjoying a particularly unique tea blend that he was certain was hand mixed by the old lady who’d given it to him as payment for healing) and even Thor seems to be waiting for Hel to begin, Steve is starting to get antsy (waiting was never something he’d been good at, it had never brought anything good either, also, he’d never been massively fussed for tea) and Tony was just plain _bored_.

“Excuse me?” Tony bounces in his seat. “Can we get on with this? I mean, it’s not even as though I get cell service down here. I mean, my phone’s not even working!”

“All in good time Mister Stark,” Hel stated coolly, her head turning ever so slightly to enrapture Tony in an icy gaze. “You could always go and talk with your father if you are bored.”

Tony choked on that solicitous offer, and decided that eating his cake was a good idea. (If there was one thing he didn’t want to get into, especially not in front of Cap, it was his complicated relationship with his father, and this woman reminded him of Pepper, and Pepper always made him do what he didn’t want to do). He felt, rather than saw, the slight smile on Hel’s lip, almost apologetic.

She waited them out a little longer, before sweeping around and settling into the seat at the head of the table, one side of her body shrouded carefully, the other on display, stunningly beautiful. “So what was it that you wished to discuss? Or would the correct term be entreat?”

Steve opened his mouth to talk again. Hel shot him a look.

“I have already said that I will not speak on this matter with you good Captain. That Agent Romanov and Barton are the ones who are to speak with me on this matter.”

“You would not listen to me Lady Hel?” Thor boomed.

Hel’s face turned to the Asgardian. “This is not your concern. As good a man as you believe he is, and the debt you feel you owe him? You have no true connection to him. Mister Stark is not the kind to understand entreaty, Doctor Banner…is not one for negotiations of this nature, and as I have said before, Captain Rogers, is here out of guilt. Agents Barton and Romanov, they are here out of love. So, Agents. Speak.”

“You know why we are here,” ‘Tasha stated quietly. “You know what we wish.”

“Phil Coulson,” Clint put in. “We want him back. It wasn’t his time.”

“You sound as if you have been speaking with Lachesis,” Hel offered softly.

Clint shrugged slightly, and ‘Tasha’s hand snaked onto his thigh underneath the table.

“Now tell me, what would you do to have him returned to you?”

“Anything,” Clint and ‘Tasha’s voices were firm.

(The other Avengers wondered what Coulson had been to them that they would offer anything to a goddess in charge of the underworld).

\-------------------------------------

Hel watched the Avengers surreptitiously as she sipped on her tea, waiting for them to get impatient with her as she stared out the window, over her lands. She was unsurprised that Barton and Romanov were able to outwait her – they were assassins, it was what they did. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of that fact. That Stark was the first one to break the silence didn’t surprise her, though she wasn’t content with the way she had shut him up – throwing a relationship like that at him, was not something that she ever enjoyed, but she needed silence. Rogers was getting more and more antsy. Eventually though, she had to get down to business, because they came for a reason, and they need to ask.

So, she spoke with them, jousting easily against her cousin, and taking interest in Barton’s apparent knowledge of Coulson being stolen before his time.

“Now tell me, what would you do to have him returned to you?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Anything,” had not been the answer she was expecting to have given in stereo.

She smiled to herself, noting that the other Avengers didn’t seem to keen on that answer. She rose to her feet, noting the way Thor immediately leapt up, while Clint and ‘Tasha rose with her (half a second behind so as to be seen to be taking her cues, and to still be polite, a carefully practised interval).

“Come with me,” she ordered serenely, already moving towards the door set behind her throne. 

Barton and Romanov seemed to know where she was going, but Rogers held them back.

“Where are you taking us?” he demanded.

Hel turned and smiled. “I assumed you would like to see your comrade. If I am mistaken, then by all means, continue to eat.”

She continued on towards the door, hearing their footsteps hurry to catch up with her, identifying each Avenger as they started to follow. (Barton and Romanov, barely any gap before Thor, Rogers quick to move to protect his team, Banner and Stark hurrying after).

\-------------------------------------

The room she leads them to is neat, a sitting room, and perched on one of the sofas, a book in hand is Agent Philip Coulson.

“Agent Coulson,” Hel inclined her head slightly. “They came as predicted.”

Coulson looked up and simply stared at them, then he shook his head. “’Tasha, Clint, what the hell were you thinking?”

“You didn’t think we were just going to let you stay dead did you sir?” Clint asked playfully, apparently unsurprised that he was directing his question at the two assassins.

“We decided that we would come and fetch you,” ‘Tasha added. “Like in the Greek myth of Orpheus.”

“So who am I in this story?” Coulson lifted an eyebrow. “Eurydice?”

“Well…” Clint searched his head for knowledge of Greek myths – knowledge that was there because Coulson loved them. “I guess the Avengers _are_ playing Orpheus…”

“I suppose that makes me Hades…” Hel mused, a slight smile on her lips. “Great guy, good fun, I think you would like him. Just watch out for his wife, she is _dangerous_. Mind you, she got a damn sweet deal out of marrying her Uncle…”

“I’m sorry _what_?!” Stark demanded. “The myth’s called ‘The Rape of Persephone’. How is that a sweet deal?”

“Let us see… Unimportant goddess Persephone, becomes Hades’ consort, Dread Queen of the Underworld, and basically ends up running aforementioned Underworld? How is that a _bad_ deal?!”

(The refined woman from the main hall is back in a moment, the smile turning serene rather than mocking).

“I will leave you to talk. I have things I must do.”

With that, she glided out, leaving the Avengers with the (possibly) dead Agent.

“So what do we do now?” Tony asked.

“Walk out of Helheim without looking back?” Coulson suggested dryly.

Clint and ‘Tasha looked at each other for a moment, before Clint burst into delighted laughter, ‘Tasha grinned and both launched themselves at the sofa to coil against Coulson’s sides.

“I think we’ve missed a few memos here,” Stark commented lightly. “The one where Legolas and Widow are cats, and the one where they’re sleeping with Coulson.”

(Clint took the opportunity to flip Stark off, and ‘Tasha threw a knife at the genius’ head).

(Thankfully Steve had brought his shield, and the knife clattered harmlessly off it onto the carpeted floor - and _seriously_? What kind of hell goddess had an eggshell blue carpet in their parlour?).


	5. In Which Coulson Gets Retrospective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 5/8 might change...I think it'll be finished in the next three chapters, but I can't swear to it...

Hel stood on the border of her realm. This wasn’t something she was looking forward to. She looked up.

“Heimdallr!” she called into the air. “I wish to speak with the Allfather!”

Time moved differently on Asgard, and Odin’s ravens had already told her that the Bifrost was rebuilt. She’d never liked the feeling of transport via the Bifrost. For the most part she was capable of moving between the realms via her veil, but in this instance she needed the formality of entering through the Bifrost. She’d paused to change her clothes, sliding into formal robes, the hood thrown back, and her long hair pulled into braids underneath her circlet, her veil falling down from where it was affixed under that. The black robe fell down over the leathers she wore – reminiscent of the outfits the Valkyries war, only considerably more modest. The familiar lurch grabbed her stomach and then she was stood in Heimdallr’s rebuilt chamber.

“Thank you Gatekeeper,” she stated formally, ensuring her hair was still in place, before pulling up her hood and steeling herself for what was likely to be an unpleasant conversation.

That there was a horse waiting for her on the bridge was a pleasant surprise, and she made a mental note to do something nice for Heimdallr the next time she had a chance, especially considering it was his own mount Gulltoppr. She swung up into the saddle and rested her hand lightly on the steady creature’s neck.

“To the Allfather, Gulltoppr,” she whispered to him. “With all possible haste.”

\------------------------------------------

“So what actually happened after Loki stabbed you?” Stark asked eventually, and Phil sighed, he’d been anticipating this question.

He hooked his arms tighter around his two assassins, feeling them press closer against his sides, their hands stroking imperceptibly along his sides. Taking a breath, he started to tell his side of the story.

\------------------------------------------

** (Massive Retrospective Scene Warning) **

In the end, Phil hadn’t expected to pass out into consciousness. (That sentence alone still fucked with him _massively_ ). But that was precisely what happened. He failed to finish his sentence to Fury as his vision whited out, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting, right where he had been, against the wall of the helicarrier, with medics fussing over the body on the ground now - _his_ body, as a matter of fact – with Fury watching sadly, all slowly seeping colour, from full, to sepia, to black and white, as though veils were being pulled over Phil’s vision.

Stood, off to one side, still in colour, were four women (although one of them was a child, literally). Two of them were brightly dressed, the other two clad in blacks and greys, sombre, mourning colours, all of them looked frustrated and worried. Their voices were hushed, inaudible from where Phil was still sat against the wall. There was a definite split in the group – three slightly to one side, the fourth more towards him. The one towards him was in an open fronted robe with armour reminiscent of Thor’s, only far more feminine, and a veil trailing from a circlet nestled in amongst her braided hair.

Finally, they apparently reached a consensus, and the other three started to fade away. The one left turned towards Phil and sighed, the material of her veil rippling away from her mouth as she moved towards him.

“Do you feel like getting off the floor?” she inquired politely, her voice uncomfortably reminiscent of Loki’s, in accent at least.

“Are you here to tell me I’m dead?” Phil asked the remaining woman balefully, not moving to stand up. “Because newsflash, I know that.”

The woman laughed, ducking her head slightly. “No, Agent Coulson, I am not here to tell you, you are dead. Clearly, as you have stated, you have already ascertained that fact. I am here to tell you that you should not be dead.”

“Well that’s a…wait, what? I shouldn’t be dead?”

“By general consensus, you had at least five more years in you, most probably more.”

Phil blinked at her, trying to reconcile the information he was being given, with what had been happening. “Who the hell are you?”

“I _am_ Hel.”

Phil continued to watch her, and she smiled impishly.

“One ‘l’ only.”

“Daughter of Loki.”

“Indeed.”

“You realize he just killed me don’t you?”

“I am unfortunately aware of that fact,” Hel admitted, offering her hand to help him up. “And I apologize profusely for my Father. He is not exactly the picture of mental stability.”

Phil accepted the hand. “I suppose not. But I’m not inclined to forgive him. He took something very precious to me.”

Hel frowned as she pulled him upright. “Shall we talk in my parlour Agent Coulson? It would be far more comfortable than being stood halfway between the realms.”

She hadn’t dropped his hand as she reached forward and drew aside a veil that was suddenly hanging in the middle of the room. She gestured for him to step through, almost bowing. Phil did so, very cautiously.

“There is nothing that will harm you in my realm,” she assured him gently. “At least…not without my permission.”

While it wasn’t the most reassuring statement in the world, Phil felt himself relax slightly – he was a good judge of character, and every instinct in him said that this woman was being honest, was a good person.

“I am afraid I can be quite the bad person as well Agent Coulson,” Hel admitted, almost sheepishly as she ushered him into a cosy room with a pale blue carpet, comfortable looking matched settees and wingback chairs, a bookcase occupying one wall, and a picture window looking out onto an icy landscape. “Please, have a seat.”

She herself took a seat, smiling at the wolf that slouched in and settled in beside her chair, resting its muzzle in her lap. Shortly there after, a tea service _materialized_ on the table between her and Phil. (And years working for SHIELD had actually prepared him for this!).

“Would you like tea or coffee Agent?”

“Tea please Lady Hel,” Phil requested politely.

“Lemon, milk, sugar?”

“A drop of milk please, no sugar.”

Hel fixed two cups of tea, handing one over to Phil, and offering him a biscuit or cake, before lifting her own cup and settling back in her seat. “Now, we must talk about the fact that my father seems insistent on interfering with the fabric of reality, and killing people who are not supposed to be dead.”

“I’m going to assume that you can’t just let me go back?”

“I am afraid not. If I started doing that, I would have a riot on my hand. Your loved ones must come for you. They must bargain for your life.”

“Clint and Natasha will come,” Phil predicted confidently. “I may wish they wouldn’t, coming into the realm they avoid so avidly and miraculously… They’ll come. They’ll think I’m worth more than them.”

“As many do of their loved ones dear Agent. I believe you would act in exactly the same manner if your positions were reversed.”

“That’s completely different…”

“Hardly. But, we are all entitled to our opinions. Please, feel free to raid my library, there is a door over there that leads into the proper room, the bookshelf here however should reflect your interests most keenly. I have things I must attend to.”

With that, she rose to her feet, and glided out, the wolf trailing her adoringly.

\------------------------------------------

“You have been blessed Son of Coul,” Thor boomed. “It seems that Lady Hel has favoured you.”

Stark looked askance at the demi-god. “Loki’s daughter is favouring the guy her dad killed? What’s the catch?”

“There will not be one. Lady Hel is fair and honest. She may seem harsh to some, but if any of my kin are above reproach, it is the good lady, she has remained afar from the petty squabbles that exist on Asgard…”

The Avengers all looked at each other as they fell silent – well, most of them fell silent, Stark was mumbling to himself, what sounded like curses.

“So what do we do now?” ‘Tasha asked softly.

“Wait for Lady Hel to return,” Rogers stated firmly. “What else can we do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heimdallr is the other spelling of Heimdall, and Gulltoppr is his horse in the Nafnaþulur section of the Prose Edda.
> 
> The three women who are with Hel in the retrospective section are stolen from Greek mythology, The Moirae (or The Fates). The little girl is Clotho, who spins the threads oflife, the brightly dressed woman is Lachesis, who measures the threads of life, and the one dressed in somber clothes is Atropos, who cuts the threads of life.


End file.
